


Clarion Call

by Escalus



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Father-Son Relationship, Fix-It, Gen, Law Enforcement, Responsibility, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 18:01:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15515460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Escalus/pseuds/Escalus
Summary: InTime of Death, Scott promised to tell his father about the supernatural.   Somewhere between then andPressure Test, Rafael McCall had that conversation with his son.   We didn't get to see it happen, but when it did, it could have gone something like this.





	Clarion Call

Among his fellow agents in the Bureau, Rafael McCall had a reputation for being very good at reading people when he put his mind to it. So when he found himself in the living room of the house that he had once shared with Melissa and Scott, anxious and unready while at the same time eager for this conversation to take place, the irony did not escape him. 

Rafael sat upright and attentively on the couch across from Scott. Melissa had taken her spot on the other end of the couch. On a chair opposite her, Alan Deaton, Scott’s boss, waited with an air of patience. The veterinarian’s presence confused and, to be frank, irritated him.

Scott had promised to come clean to Rafael after the incident with the Chemist, but his son had waited until a few weeks before graduation before inviting him and Dr. Deaton to dinner. Rafael had been as patient as he could be. Things had been going so well that he didn’t want to ruin the progress they had made by pushing things.

What bothered him now — well, it made him angry with himself and that bothered him — was the way that Scott kept looking to Dr. Deaton for reassurance. His son kept glancing at his boss and the older man would respond with a nod or a slight smile. Rafael couldn’t help but resent that. Scott should look to his father for support. 

He bit his tongue and repeated his newfound mantra: _You weren’t there._

“Okay.” Scott coughed and took a deep breath. “Okay, this is going to sound … this is going to sound pretty crazy, Dad. I … Oh, God, I don’t know how to start this.”

“It’s going to be okay, baby,” Melissa encouraged him, but she was smiling widely.

Rafael eyed her and her smile. “What’s got you so happy?”

“Oh, Rafe, this is actually something I’ve dreamed about. Maybe I should sit across from you, I really need to see the look on your face.”

“Mom!” Scott protested. “This is hard!”

“Scott, sometimes it’s better to take the bandage off quickly.” Deaton offered.

This settled Scott and inwardly, Rafael seethed. He chewed the inside of his cheek.

“Okay.” Scott took yet another deep breath. “Dad, I’m a werewolf.”

It took about ten seconds for Rafael to process those words before he burst out into laughter. He hadn’t intended to laugh; it just forced itself out of him.

“I win!” crowed Melissa. “Both of you’ll pay up!”

“Mom!”

“You’re …” Rafael narrowed his eyes and clenched his hands on the fabric of his dress pants. “I don’t think this is funny.”

The veterinarian and Melissa turned to look at Scott for his answer. His son sighed and then the very bones of his face slid out of position as hair sprouted where there shouldn’t be any. Long animal claws extended from his fingers.

Rafael had seen many extraordinary things in his life, but his son becoming a horror movie monster was the one that surprised him the most. He was proud of himself though. He didn’t go for his gun, he didn’t scream, and he didn’t jump up to run. 

“How?” It was the first question he asked when he could ask questions. 

Scott began his story of how he became a werewolf, starting from when Stiles took him out into the woods to the death of Peter Hale. 

Rafael was an investigator; he had an instinct for understanding when someone left important parts out of a story. He asked his son questions that would get him the answers he wanted, and he didn’t let up. 

Melissa had never seen him work before and was concerned. “Rafe, Scott’s not your enemy.”

“I need to know the whole story, and Scott, you’re omitting things you don’t want me to know. I want to know everything, and that means I’m going to ask questions.”

Scott swallowed and muttered to himself. “It’s always better when they know.” Scott went one with his story to the point where Rafael held up a hand. He had thought that werewolves was going to be hardest thing he had to process.

“So let me get this straight, he came back from the dead after you poisoned him?” 

“No, Dad. Peter came back from the dead after Lydia poisoned _us_ at her birthday party. I poisoned _Gerard_ because I knew he was trying to get the Bite to cure his cancer.”

Rafael shot Melissa a hard look.

“Don’t glare at me, Rafe. I was in shock. Just be thankful that you found out in our living room rather than a jail cell. I couldn’t look him in the face for a week!”

“You could have called me at any point during any of this!”

Melissa’s smile died and she replied coldly. “I didn’t know if you would come.”

“Mom. Dad. No one really knew what to do.”

The veterinarian cleared his throat. “I think that, given the circumstances, everyone handled it remarkably well.”

“And what it is that you do?” Rafael turned to the man. 

“I’m getting to that,” Scott interrupted and began talking about the beginning of his junior year up to the point where Rafael had come back to Beacon Hills.

Rafael didn’t bother to hide his frown. He forced himself not to comment on the time and manpower he had wasted on an investigation, when his own son kept important information from him. He had more difficult things with which to struggle. His wife — ex-wife — had been in danger and both of them had thought it was wiser not to tell him. He’d deal with the emotional implications of that on his own time, because right now he had to learn the facts.

“So, you’re some sort of … werewolf prodigy?”

“No!” Scott’s face flushed red. 

“That description is not entirely inaccurate. What Scott managed to accomplish is extraordinarily rare. Werewolves are naturally violent creatures, and the world is not particularly welcoming for their kind. True Alphas manifest when needed; when things are quiet and peaceful there’s not much need for them.”

“You know an awful lot about this, Dr. Deaton. It makes me wonder why.”

“He’s my Emissary, Dad. It’s his job to know.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“An Emissary is a human adviser to a werewolf pack. Our goal is always the same — to advise the alpha on how to protect their packs, which includes integration into the human world. While psychologically and physically there are many similarities between werewolves and human beings, there are also significant differences, and if you’re not prepared, these can lead to trouble.”

“So I can assume that one of the reasons he didn’t contact me was your advice?”

“Dad!”

“Rafe!”

“It is true that I, like any Emissary, would caution my alpha against involving law enforcement, especially federal law enforcement.”

“So you told him not to do it.”

“Dad! He didn’t say that!” 

“I did not tell Scott not to let you in on the truth. It doesn’t take much effort to see that his relationship to you is very important to him, just as it also doesn’t take much effort to see that his safety is important to you.”

It was Rafael’s turn to be embarrassed. He looked down at his shoes. “I’m sorry. I don’t have the right to be upset that my family hid things from me, but I do think the right to be upset when people I care about were in danger and I didn’t know.”

“Dad.” Scott repeated it until Rafael looked up. “I didn’t know that you were in town until I was … committed to a course of action. You showed up at the worst possible time, and I …”

“You were angry with me, Scott.”

“Yes. But it wasn’t just that … lots of things were happening.”

“Scott, honey, I think you need to tell him about the sacrifice.”

Scott looked at his mother like she had just scolded him for skipping school, and she stared right back at him as a challenge. Reluctantly, Scott told Rafael of the sacrifice and the darkness around his heart that came with it. With even greater reluctance, he told of the demon that had possessed Stiles, controlled Barrow, blown up the police station, led a massacre at the hospital, and killed Allison Argent. 

“Jesus Christ!” Rafael felt like he was watching the aftermath of a train derailment. 

Scott didn’t say anything. His mind was somewhere else, thinking of someone else. 

Rafael turned to Melissa. “I’ve gotta ask, Mel. Why didn’t you leave? You could have gotten a job anywhere.”

“That wasn’t my call to make.”

“My _ass._ You should have let the bank take the house. You could have asked for my help.”

Their angry words shook Scott out of his reverie. “Dad, I couldn’t just leave. I’m the Protector of Beacon Hills …”

“You’re an eighteen-year-old boy who should be worried about whether he’s going to join a fraternity in a few months, not defeating supernatural threats.” Rafael stood up and he could feel his voice climbing in volume. “So, the assassins were part of this?”

Scott stood up as well. “We beat them …”

“We beat them?” Rafael echoed in amazement. “Why were you anywhere _near_ them?” 

“It was a dead pool of supernatural creatures. Someone was … paying money to get rid of us.”

Rafael put his hands on his hips. “Go on. Tell me the rest. Tell me about senior year with the mass murders. Tell me about the month no one answered their phones.”

“Rafe,” Melissa soothed. “Maybe we should take a break.”

“I think that I’ve taken too much of a break from my son’s life. I think that I want to hear it … _now_.” 

Scott began to explain about the Dead Pool and Mexico.

“TWENTY FIVE MILLION!” Rafael felt like he was having a stroke.

“That’s enough!” Melissa took his arm. “Rafe, I can understand what you’re feeling, but you need to calm down. Getting angry isn’t going to solve anything.” 

Rafael started to walk around the room in frustration. He could feel Scott’s eyes on him, so he turned around to say something. Scott was near tears. 

“This isn’t your fault.” Rafael protested immediately. “I’m not blaming you, Scott. I’m mad at a lot of people, but I’m mad the most at myself. I should have been here. I should have …”

“Dad, don’t …” 

Rafael stepped forward, incredibly awkwardly, and pulled into his son into a hug. Weirdly, the knowledge that it only happened because Scott allowed it made him feel a lot better. “I still need to know the rest, but yeah, let’s take a break.”

He disappeared into the kitchen; he needed a moment. Part of him was still reeling from the story he had heard, but he found himself believing every word. It was a nightmare come true, but he believed it, because it explained too much.

Melissa followed him a few minutes later. “Rafe …”

“I’m very angry with you.”

She crossed her arms.

“My bad behavior doesn’t excuse yours, Mel. You let our son put his life in danger.”

“He won, Rafe. He saved people.”

“He was lucky! He had no training! Just the advice of a veterinarian, a trauma survivor, and his know-it-all best pal.” 

“He was good. He stopped people who needed to be stopped, and he did it without becoming a monster.”

Rafael pointed a finger in Melissa’s face. “He shouldn’t have had to do it at all. You remember being that age? Growing up is hard enough without … Japanese firefly demons killing your girlfriend!” 

“Yes, I remember. Scott didn’t get to have the life we had, but you need to have a little faith in him …”

“It’s not _him_ that I lack faith in.” He gritted his teeth. “God, I want a drink right now.”

Melissa raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not going to have one, but I want a drink.”

“Just promise me that you’ll hear Scott out.” 

Rafael wanted nothing more than to make Melissa and his son pack their bags and move to San Francisco that night. But instead, he promised. “I will. I’ll hear everything he has to say to me. But I’m also going to tell you another thing. I’m going to have some words with certain other people in this town, and they are going to hear _everything_ I have to say to them.”

******

The next evening, Rafael sat in his car outside Liam Dunbar’s house until he was sure that the kid had seen him. Rafael caught movement in the windows out of the corner of his eye.

******

Rafael hesitated before the sheriff’s office door. He looked behind him to see that there were only a few others on duty at this time of night. Parrish, who was apparently a hellhound, was working on traffic reports at his desk. So. Weird. He knocked on the door once.

“Come in!”

“Sheriff.” Rafael came to rest right in front of the sheriff’s desk. “Noah.”

One eyebrow lifted on the other man’s face. “I was expecting you earlier, to be honest.”

“I thought it would be better to take a week to think things through before I had a sit-down with you. You know, cool off. Do a little research. Prepare myself.”

“So I’m not going to like this, am I? Maybe we shouldn’t do it in my office then. You could come over for dinner.”

“No.” Rafael made his voice go hard. “This is the perfect place to do it.”

The sheriff leaned back in his chair and waited for him to continue. Noah’s attitude was all ‘get it over with.’

“First off, as a private individual? As Noah Stilinski? I can understand why you didn’t contact me. I wasn’t a good father or a good husband. I want to make that clear before we start.”

“Well that’s good to know. But you have a problem with me in my professional capacity; it wouldn’t be the first time.”

“That’s an understatement. You know, my first response when I heard the story was … I saved this guy’s job?” Rafael clucked his tongue in derision. “I sat down and carefully evaluated what you were responsible for and what you weren’t. You can’t be blamed for Kate Argent’s arson. Or Peter Hale’s revenge spree. Or Matt Daehler’s revenge spree. Or Gerard Argent’s extortion. You certainly can’t be blamed Julia Baccari’s sacrificial serial killing. You didn’t know.”

“But …” The sheriff was frowning slightly. 

“But … I was standing right there when the nogi … nogi … demon fox started its killing spree. You knew my son was in danger. And even if you thought that telling me would impact your impeachment …”

Noah scoffed. “You mean if I came to you and said that a supernatural force was killing people you’d have believed me? For your information, it had nothing to do with the impeachment. It had everything to do with your ability to make everything all about you.”

Rafael jutted out his jaw. “I probably wouldn’t have believed you, but that’s totally irrelevant. You don’t get to avoid your duty just because it’s difficult.”

“Avoid my duty! You know, McCall, maybe you should get the hell out of my office in order to avoid my foot in your ass!”

Rafael didn’t budge. “You knew what was going on. You knew that people were in danger, and you hid it from me because it might hurt your son. People died at this police station and at the hospital because of that choice.”

Noah stared at him like he wanted to slug him. He probably did. “What do you think you could have done?”

“You know exactly what resources I have access to. But instead of using them, you let me run off after false leads. I arrested innocent people on murder charges, so you could keep Stiles’ name out of the investigation.”

“Derek Hale and Chris Argent were hardly innocent, and it wasn’t my son who framed them.”

“No, it wasn’t. But that doesn’t change the fact that you made decisions that put people in danger to preserve your son’s freedom.”

“To preserve my son’s life!”

“Do you really think that I would have ordered your son’s death? Do you think that the FBI goes around gunning down mentally impaired teenagers?”

The sheriff leaned back in his chair. “I did what I had to do to protect him. Not even you could ask me not to do that.”

“But _you_ could.”

“What?”

“How many weeks did I work next to you on the Dead Pool murders? How many times did we talk in this office trying to anticipate their next move or track down their motives? And all that time, you concealed not only that you had the list of targets, but that my son was at the top of that list.” 

“It wasn’t my secret to tell. Scott didn’t …” 

Rafael snorted in open mockery. “Don’t blame this on Scott. As for it not being your secret to tell, are we in middle school? What if the assassins had just been a little more creative, say by putting a wolf’s bane-infused sniper round in my son’s forehead while he was at lacrosse practice? What would you have done then? But there were things I could have done!”

Noah took a deep breath. “In this town, you have to make decisions for the greater good. You don’t have to like mine.”

“Good, because I don’t like your decisions. Such as your decision to use my son as unpaid labor.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Rafael drew his notebook from his pocket. “On the seventh of last September, you requested that my son help track down an escaped criminal named Donovan Donatti. It’s not the first time you willingly involved my minor son in a police investigation, and it wasn’t the last. I have a whole list here.”

“It was a supernatural matter, and that meant he was going to get involved anyway; that’s just the way he is. I violated protocol so I could protect your son and his friends by supervising them.”

Rafael grimaced in revulsion.

“And you do respect protocol, don’t you? Like when Scott and Kira were kidnapped and taken to Mexico by a mass murderer, and you insisted that everyone wait while you followed procedure. What exactly was the Border Patrol supposed to do about a naga-whatsit? In this instance, I’m really glad your son constantly defies you. What was your plan? It certainly didn’t include contacting me, the federal agent.”

Noah looked away. “That may have been a mistake.” 

“I tend to notice that when a Stilinski makes a mistake, they’re never the ones who end up suffering for it. Oh, wait, that’s not really fair. I’m sure that you must have suffered through the trial of your son for the involuntary manslaughter of Donovan.” 

Noah’s left hand, resting on the desk, clenched into a fist. “You don’t know anything about that.”

“It’s true, I don’t, and that’s my fault. It’s not like I couldn’t have taken the time to read the trial report. There was a trial right, since you had a dead body and a confession? Maybe the report is in the same drawer as the warrant for the arrests of Liam Dunbar and Theo Raeken for attempted murder.” 

“I suspect you have a point somewhere in this, _special agent?_ ”

“I do. You did anything you could to protect the people of this town and especially your son from the unique dangers they face every day, but one of the ways you did that was by repeatedly allowing my son to face mortal peril. To you, he was _expendable._ ”

“He’s an alpha werewolf.”

“I know! I was so happy to watch him graduate from alpha werewolf training school.” 

The sheriff’s face screwed up in irritation. “I don’t like it when Stiles uses sarcasm; I’m not going to tolerate it from you.”

“We license cars. We license guns. We insist that potential law enforcement officers take psychological tests and receive intensive training. We do it because having a car or a gun or a badge gives you power, and society insists that people with access to such power know what they’re doing. My son was turned into a werewolf against his will and was forced to assume a leadership position before he graduated high school. Who trained him? You?”

“You should be proud of what your son chose to do. No one forced him to take the lead.”

“I am. I’m very proud of him. But this isn’t about what my son chose to do. It’s about what you chose to do or, rather, not do.”

“You don’t get it. Your son is special and that means he has responsibilities normal people don’t have.”

“Oh, I get it.” Rafael sneered as hard as he possibly could. “My son is strong and tough and can heal bullet wounds, so of course he’s less deserving of your office’s protection than other kids. After all, he’s little more than an animal, and, as your son so astutely pointed out, most of them are human.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No.” Rafael stood up in a rage and swept everything off the sheriff’s desk. It clattered to the floor loudly. The computer must have broken as well. “It’s not fair.”

Parrish burst into the room, gun drawn. Noah shook his head. “I’ll handle this. The special agent and I are having a disagreement.” 

Parrish glared at Rafael and he glared right back. He closed the door and left them alone again.

“Two final things, and then I’ll let you get back to whatever the hell you do while children are dying. You broke every ethical rule in the book to protect your son, all the while denying me the ability to protect mine. If I discover that you know of something new happening in this town that could affect Scott, and you don’t contact me, I’m not going to just have you impeached, I’m going to have you imprisoned. I have more than enough evidence to do so. Do you understand?”

The sheriff worked his jaw in anger.

“I asked you a question, Sheriff.”

“I understand.” Noah spoke through clenched teeth.

“I’m also recommending your son for the George Washington pre-FBI fast-track program. He’ll be able to start an internship this summer.”

“Why … why would you do that?”

“Because I want your fucking son as far away from my son as it is humanly possible for me to arrange as fast as it is humanly possible for me to arrange it. Maybe then you’ll be able to do your job.”

This time, it was Rafael who slammed the door to the Sheriff’s office.

******

Rafael couldn’t locate Theo Raeken’s truck. It seemed the chimera was moving it continuously so as to not be arrested for vagrancy.

******

The chime on the front door of the Beacon Hills Animal Clinic rang to announce Rafael’ arrival, similar to the way the bell rang in a million other small shops across America. But this wasn’t a simple small business. This place was important in a way that Rafael didn’t quite fully comprehend, but he needed to.

“Hello.” Dr. Deaton’s voice called out from the back. “I’ll be right with you.”

Rafael studied the room carefully, looking for signs of sinister intent. He didn’t find any, unless you counted the reminder to spay or neuter your pets for their own good. 

“Agent McCall. Good afternoon. I wasn’t expecting a visit.”

“Uh, well, I hope you’re not busy.”

“You look flushed. Is everything okay?”

Rafael pulled at his collar. “I just came from the sheriff’s station. We discussed some concerns I had about his behavior toward my son. I may have gotten a bit aggressive.”

The veterinarian considered him, his head tilting slightly to the side. “And now you’re here to talk to me. Would you like to come into the back?” He opened the gate to invite Rafael in. 

The back room seemed to be just as normal as the lobby. Deaton must have been working on a problem with someone’s pet. A manila folder was open on the work table and x-rays were mounted on the light board. Normal, normal, normal.

“What’s on your mind?” 

“You can call me Rafael. I’m here as Scott’s father, not as an agent.” Rafael straightened up. “I want to know how Scott got Bit.”

“Scott explained to you how that happened.”

“Not really. He explained to me what happened, but not _how_ it happened.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“Coincidences happen. When you’re an investigator, you have to keep that in mind. Sometimes something that looks like it might be a clue is not a clue. But I think that the chance that my son’s boss happened to be an adviser to the supernatural is a little bit too big of a coincidence for me to stomach.”

“Ahhh. I see.” Deaton thought about it. “Sometimes, Rafael, there isn’t a clear answer to questions that should be asked.”

Rafael leaned back on one of the examination tables. “Feel free to speculate.”

“I actually make it a point to keep my speculations to a minimum unless it is absolutely necessary. People have accused me of being unnecessarily cryptic, but they don’t really understand the danger of presenting guesswork as certainty. In the supernatural world, passing speculation off as fact gets people killed, and that’s not the point of an Emissary.”

“Indulge me this one time. Tell me your feelings on how, of all the people in the woods that night, a supposedly insane Peter Hale happened to bite _your_ employee.”

Deaton locked eyes with him. The man obviously was reluctant to speak. “Very well. As long as you understand that this is pure speculation. I have an idea.”

“I want to sleep at night; I want to think that my son’s reliance on you is healthy and genuine.”

“If we rule out the possibility of random chance, the most likely scenario is this, for which I have no hard evidence whatsoever: sense memory.”

Rafael raised both eyebrows.

“Scott spent hours in this room, working with the animals that come in and working with the equipment here. To human perceptions, the smell is subtle. To werewolf, my workroom has a very unique scent. Not quite a hospital and not quite a home.”

“Go on.”

“Talia Hale would visit me here frequently, especially in the days leading up to the fire. She was concerned about the Argents, just as Peter was, but she didn’t think initiating hostilities was the proper course of action.”

“She would have smelled like this room as well.”

Deaton sighed. “Imagine a mentally damaged werewolf seeking revenge for his family but also plagued by guilt because he killed a member of that same family. Imagine him tearing around the woods looking for a pack. Peter might have caught the scent of this room on Scott, and it would have reminded him of his alpha, of his sister Talia. Again, this is simply speculation.”

Rafael frowned. 

“I suspect you wanted there to be a conspiracy. You wanted there to be a destiny. Sometimes, Rafael, things just happen.”

“I must admit that I was hoping for more.”

“You were looking for someone to blame.”

“I have someone to blame: Peter Hale.”

The veterinarian nodded his agreement. “Peter does bear some of the blame for this; but he was unstable and not thinking clearly. That doesn’t free him from responsibility to the child he bit, a responsibility he has neglected.” 

“You’ll get no argument from me. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to explain to criminals that the only way they can plead ‘not guilty by reason of insanity’ is if they had no conception that what they were doing was wrong. Peter hid his crimes, so that makes him guilty. But that leads me to my next question: weren’t you the Hale Family Emissary?”

“No. I was Talia Hale’s Emissary. She saw fit to isolate me from the rest of the pack, which is actually standard practice.”

“But still, you were associated with the Hale Pack, yet you didn’t become Emissary for Laura or Peter or Derek.”

“I’m a human being, not an object. I’m not something that can be inherited. An Emissary chooses the alpha they serve. I didn’t become Laura’s Emissary, because she moved to New York. I chose not to become either Peter’s or Derek’s emissary.”

“But you chose to become my son’s.”

“I did.”

“Why? Did you do it out of guilt?”

Deaton laughed. “No. I have nothing to feel guilty about. I did it because your son is a good person; he’s always been a good person. I could tell that the moment he started working for me. How he cared for the animals even when he had to clean their cages, a nasty task for anyone. How he was conscientious about showing up on time. How he talked about playing first line.”

“That makes him a good person?”

“When confronted with a difficulty while reaching a goal, most teenagers either give up or get angry. Scott tried to make first line with little hope of success, and I suspect he would have kept trying even if he’d never got close. Compassion, optimism, and respect are rare traits for someone as young as he was then. I saw his potential immediately when I realized he had become a werewolf.”

“Respect?” Rafael snorted. “He didn’t have much respect for me.”

“I think you’re confusing respect with politeness. Respect is an understanding and admiration for what others have accomplished; it is the opposite of envy. You shouldn’t take it personally. I know that Scott respects you now more than he did.”

“He does?”

“Scott did not have much respect for you in the same way he did not have much respect for Derek. He could not understand why you left and he could not agree or admire Derek’s actions as an alpha, so he wouldn’t follow either of you. That doesn’t mean he hated either of you, and I don’t think he ever has. Eventually though, he grew to admire and understand Derek, just as he has grown to admire and understand you. Most people define others by the worst thing they ever did. Scott does not. It’s a powerful ability to be able to set aside personal hurts to give people a second chance. As long as he could hold on to that ability and the traits that come with it, I always suspected he would become a True Alpha.”

Rafael ran a tongue over his teeth. “And you wanted him to.”

“That’s a baseless accusation.”

“You have to admit that it’s got to be prestigious, being the Emissary to a True Alpha, something that, according to you, only happens once in a century. I’m not saying that you planned it, but I’m wondering if you chose not to stop it either.”

“It wasn’t my place to stop it.”

“Was it your place to make sure it happened?”

“I can assure you that I did no such thing. If I could have stopped him from being bitten, Rafael, I would have, but once he was bitten I could not, in good conscience, take steps which would prevent him from reaching his potential. I helped Scott when he needed it and I advised him when I could, but the fact is, Scott became what he is through the strength of his own choices. I can understand why you may feel resentful that you weren’t part of that process.”

“Resentful?” Rafael shook his head. “That’s a completely inadequate word for what I feel, doctor. All I have right now are what-ifs and what-could-have-beens. I can’t decide what sticks in my throat more, that I couldn’t protect him or that he didn’t need my protection.”

“May I offer you some advice that I have offered Scott on occasion?” 

Rafael shrugged.

“One of the key things about responsibility is knowing when it is actually something that belongs to you. You may feel that you let your son down by not being there for him, and that’s probably true. But nothing about your absence makes you responsible for the choices other people made. While you might have stopped Peter from biting Scott, we’ll never know if it’s true. We’ll never know if your presence would have made Scott’s existence as a werewolf easier. And if we can never know, how can an attempt to take responsibility for that outcome be useful?”

“Easier said than done.”

“That is also true.”

“Are you going to keep advising my son?” 

“As long as he’ll listen.”

“Could you do me a favor?” 

Deaton nodded in assent. 

“I just realized this week how much of his childhood has been consumed by the supernatural. Remind him that being a True Alpha isn’t everything he is. He deserves a life, too.”

“In that we are in perfect agreement. If you want to know a secret, my ultimate desire is for him to become my partner one day in this clinic.” 

Impulsively, Rafael stuck out his hand. “Thank you.” 

Deaton took it and shook it. “I’m afraid I have to ask for what.”

“For being there when I wasn’t.”

******

He followed Liam Dunbar and his friend Mason as they drove around town. Mason seemed pretty recovered from his beast ordeal, but that wasn’t the person that Rafael was interested in.

******

Rafael was doing the dishes with his sleeves rolled up. He wasn’t used to it; his apartment in San Francisco had a dishwasher. Melissa was working a Friday night late shift. She was used to working them; after all, she had refused child support a few years after they were first divorced in order to secure full custody. Rafael couldn’t remember why he had agreed to that arrangement.

Scott, on the other hand, was gone for the weekend. He, Stiles, Lydia, and Malia and a few non-pack friends had gone camping at Sonoma Coast State Beach. He didn’t mind. He was still on vacation and a few days spent alone wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. It was going to be a quiet weekend. 

He was scrubbing forks when the doorbell rang. Drying his hands with the dishtowel, he moved toward the front door but paused when he got to the living room. This was Beacon Hills, after all. On the end table in the living room lay his pistol. He glanced at the door trying to imagine who would be calling at this hour and then back at gun. The doorbell rang once again.

Rafael left the pistol where it lay and answered the door. 

“Agent McCall.”

“You must be Chris Argent. You don’t have to call me agent when I’m off duty.”

“Mr. McCall, then. But you knew who I was.”

Rafael pulled the door open wide. “Come on in.”

He couldn’t help but notice that Chris Argent knew his way around the house. The hunter had none of the hesitation that people show when entering a place for the first time. Argent didn’t need to look where he was going. Rafael put that information to the side for the time being.

“Want something to drink? I have some beer.” 

“That would be fine. Thank you.” 

The hunter remained in the living room while Rafael returned to the kitchen. He dug through the refrigerator to find the beer he had brought with him when he came. He had brought it with him as a sort of peace offering for Scott, only to discover that Scott could not actually experience anything more than the taste. He popped the top off on the kitchen counter. 

Chris had taken a seat on the couch, accepting the beer with an appraising eye. “Good brand.”

“It’s the one I liked the most, when I still drank. One positive thing about growing older is you don’t have to justify buying the good stuff.” Rafael sat down opposite him on the same chair that Scott had sat in when telling him about all of this. “So what brings you here tonight, Mr. Argent?”

“Please, call me Chris.”

“Then call me Rafael.”

“Okay, Rafael.” The hunter paused. “I was warned that you would probably come looking for me at some point in the next few days. It’s an old instinct, but I prefer to enter confrontations on my own terms. So I decided to get it out of the way and come find you.”

“Noah talked to you.” Rafael assumed it would have happened sooner or later.

“He did.”

Rafael contemplated making something up, but after fiddling with the couch cushion, he decided on honesty. “I hadn’t planned to come to talk to you yet, because I wasn’t sure what I was going to say.”

“I assumed it wouldn’t be anything positive, considering what you said to the sheriff.”

“Apples and oranges.” Rafael scoffed and gestured at the hunter. “You’re not a civil servant. I mean, of course, I could have come for you as an agent -- you do happen to be part of the leadership of a paramilitary vigilante death cult.”

Argent worked his jaw. “I’ve never heard my family described quite that way before.”

“Which part isn’t true?”

“We’re not a cult.”

“Bad choice of words. You’re a paramilitary vigilante conspiracy. Better?”

“My family has been hunting werewolves for centuries. And while I know that recent history hasn’t put my family into the best light, I can assure you that was we do is necessary.”

“What you do? Your family hunts people like my son.”

“No.” Argent put the beer bottle down on the end table with a firm sound. “We have always had a Code. As our family was meant to be, we would never hunt your son.”

“But you did hunt my son. You shot him.”

“I did; I can’t deny that. I threatened him on various occasions as well. It might not make a difference to you, but the first time I met him, I shot to disable, and when I threatened him it was less because of what he was and more for the threat he presented to my daughter. I was wrong to do either.”

“Did you ever tell him that?”

Chris Argent looked surprised. “No. But I think I’ve demonstrated to him that I don’t consider him a threat to anyone.”

“I know you must have. It’s kind of funny to me, in a way that’s not funny at all, that he trusts you implicitly, more than he trusts me. Even so, you should’ve explicitly told him that he was not a monster a long time ago. It’s important, because you know how much he looks up to you.”

The hunter stared at the floor for a moment. “Scott’s story, while inspiring, is not common. Most bitten wolves belong to stable packs who are prepared for a new addition. Born wolves tend to form cohesive family units. But power is power, and without vigilance, power corrupts. It’s easy for bitten wolves to lose their humanity and give in to their predatory urges; it’s even easier for an omega abandoned by its alpha to fall prey to those urges. Even families of born wolves can grow tired of hiding. When that happens, they begin to see their neighbors as enemies. I’ve seen werewolves just like your son and his friends become real monsters, time and again. I’ve read our histories which catalog tales of once-peaceful werewolves going on rampages for various reasons. Power is dangerous; there needs to be a force out there to check them. My family’s own story illuminates exactly how damaging power without restraint can be.”

“I’m not asking you to justify your family’s existence. Though, as you can imagine, I’m not a fan. I don’t see a point for you here and now. The idea of a family whose duty was to hunt werewolves must have made perfect sense in eighteenth century France where the highest political theory in operation was _L’Etat, c’est moi_. But in this country we have the rule of law, and citizens have a right to a fair trial, even if they have claws and fangs.”

“I don’t think the world is ready for your vision yet.”

“Probably not. And I’m not going to be the one to change it.” Rafael shook his head. “I’m not here to bust your balls over your family history. I’m not even really here to bust your balls over you threatening to kill my son. Repeatedly.”

Argent responded dryly. “Fair enough.”

“I’m here to thank you.”

The hunter looked surprised.

Rafael licked his lips before answering. “The one thing my son made clear was that you’ve lost so much. Most people I’ve met who have suffered the losses like yours have crawled away to hide. Instead, you’ve chosen to become a reformer — to correct the problems your family has caused. That takes courage. You also had every reason to leave this town and never look back, but you came back for my son. More than once. There’s nothing a father can say to that but thank you.”

“You’re … you’re welcome.”

Rafael focused on the bottle Chris was holding rather than what had just happened between them. He could feel Argent’s eyes upon him. 

“This went differently than what I expected. The sheriff implied you were on the warpath.”

“I am, in a way. Maybe I wouldn’t call it a warpath; I’d call it a reckoning. I can’t make it up to Scott for not being here when he really needed me. That ship has sailed. But I’m still going to do what I can now, and if that’s confronting people who need to be confronted and thanking people who need to be thanked, then that’s what I’m going to do. I took a hard line with Noah because my problem with him predates my son’s transformation. Stilinskis have always tended to let their emotions override what they know is right, and this is no exception: Noah abused his position to protect his son, and he used my son to protect his position. Whether Scott was a willing participant or not, it was still wrong.”

“Reckoning.” Chris chuckled as he contemplated his beer. “You want me to talk to Scott about these things.”

“Yes, I do. I think he needs to hear what you think. Deeds can speak louder than words, but often they don’t speak clearer than words.” 

“Anything else?”

“Yes.” Rafael smiled with what he hoped was an intimidating smile. “Tell me everything you know about Peter Hale.”

******

On the third night he lurked outside of Liam Dunbar’s house, a man came out who must have been Liam’s stepfather.

“This is getting ridiculous. What are you doing here?”

Rafael showed him his identification. “Routine investigation.”

“Of what?” Dr. Geyer’s face couldn’t conceal his surprise.

“That’s a question you should ask your son.”

******

Rafael was sitting on the couch when Peter Hale returned to his apartment. He had one leg crossed over the other and one hand resting on the back of the fine piece of furniture.

Peter Hale came in ready for trouble; that’s right, Rafael thought, he probably smelled me. Weird.

“Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my apartment?” 

“I’m going to reach into my jacket pocket and get my identification.” Rafael announced slowly and clearly. As he did so, he made sure that Mr. Hale saw his pistol. With one hand he pulled out his identification and showed it to the werewolf. “I’m Special Agent Rafael McCall.”

That name did not make Peter Hale relax at all. Cold blue eyes swept the room for signs of anyone else. “That answers the first question. What about the second?”

“Oh, I searched your place, pretty thoroughly.”

“Don’t you need a warrant to do that?”

“Yes, I do. I have three.” He slid his identification back into his jacket and then reached down to the couch next to him to pick up a folded form. “This is the first one. It is for a search of your home and business, though I found out you don’t actually have a business. You’re independently wealthy.”

Peter stalked over and snatched the warrant out of his hands. He didn’t open it up. “Usually, warrants have to refer to a specific crime.”

“It’s come to the bureau’s attention that seven murders and two attempted murders might have been unfairly laid at the feet of Katherine Argent, along with numerous counts of assault, fraud, desecration of corpses, and unlawful confinement. Tell me, Mr. Hale, did you murder your niece, Laura Hale? And while we’re at it, did you murder Garrison Myers, Frederick Plezchek, Anthony Unger, Carl Reddick, Jennifer Fitzpatrick, and Robert Cook or any combination thereof?” 

Peter rolled his eyes. “I don’t know who Robert Cook is.”

Rafael let the disdain creep into his voice. “Of course you don’t. He was a janitor at Beacon Hills High School.”

“I may not be a lawyer, Special Agent McCall, but I don’t think local murders are quite within your jurisdiction.”

“Laura Hale was lured from her home in New York City by a message received from your nurse about a symbol carved on a deer. If she was brought here to be murdered via fraud, it means that the crime included crossing state lines. That makes that particular crime, and all other crimes associated with it, fall within federal jurisdiction.”

Peter’s face transformed from one of annoyance to one of recalculation. “I’m going to pour myself a drink. Do you want one?”

“No, thank you.”

The werewolf walked over to rather elegant bar and poured him a whiskey, neat and on the rocks. Rafael had to hand it to him, Peter had excellent taste. But Rafael had met many criminals with excellent taste. Peter took a sip and came back over to sit on a chair across from the couch.

“I wonder how long you’re going to play games with me.” 

“Mr. Hale, I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“You come into my home getting your stink everywhere, and you threaten me with this ridiculous investigation into crimes that were committed over two years ago.”

“There is no statute of limitations on murder. I’m an officer of the law which means pursuing murderers is exactly what I’m supposed to do.”

Peter watched him from across the room and slowly, carefully, grew claws as an attempt at intimidation. “And you’re planning to come after me?”

“That depends on how you answer my question. If you can convince me that you didn’t kill those people, then I’ll have to leave you alone.”

Peter barked out a laugh. “Truly, I don’t believe you. On the other hand, I don’t need to. I could rip out your heart and then you would definitely leave me alone.”

Rafael smiled back, mockingly. “You’re probably right. Did you get that?” 

The werewolf’s face grew confused. “Did I get what?”

Special Agent McCall pulled back the other side of his jacket to reveal a wire. “You should have asked what the other two warrants were for. You just threatened a federal office in order to deter an investigation. At the very least, that’s obstruction of justice.” 

“Get out!” Peter snarled.

“In due time.” Rafael shifted on the couch. “I’m waiting for the answer to my question.”

“I’m not going to answer that without a lawyer present.”

“Smart man.” Rafael stood up. “I’m not going to pull you into the interrogation room just yet. Good night, Mr. Hale.” He walked to the door, opened it up and then shut it again. Very deliberately, so Peter could see it, he turned off the wire.

Peter swirled his ice cubes in the drink. “Now I see where your son got his talent for espionage.”

“Oh, I doubt that very much. The only thing Scott got from me was his hair color and his resentment of authoritarian yet neglectful father figures.” Rafael drew his pistol. “But I’ve been told you’re intricately familiar with the latter trait.”

Peter eyed the gun. “You think that’s going to help you?”

“Federal agent or not, I’m not brave enough to be unarmed in a room with a werewolf I’m currently steamrolling.”

“So, what’s your goal here, Special Agent McCall? Going to make my life miserable as a way of taking revenge for your son?” 

Rafael took his seat back on the couch, but the gun was in his hand. He made sure that the rather large and expensive looking coffee table was between him and Peter Hale. He knew exactly what an experienced combatant could do to someone who relied too much on a gun. He had no interest in becoming an object lesson.

“As tempting as that would be, Mr. Hale, I’m going to have forgo revenge for something a bit more practical. I’ve always desired to mend fences with my son, and for some reason, revenge doesn’t seem to be much to his taste. Something else I think I have you to thank for.”

“One could say I’m the reason that your son is what he is today.” Peter got up to fix himself another drink. “I’ll wait for a thank you at any time.”

“I’d rather kneecap you. If I had been here, if I had been the father I should have been, you’d have paid for what you did and I’d have buried you six feet deep. And when you’d got back up, I’d have buried you again, moon ritual or no moon ritual.”

“I did indeed die, shouldn’t that count for something?”

“You’re a murderer and a con-man, and if you didn’t sprout fur and claws during the full moon, I would say that I’ve met hundreds of assholes just like you. You all have your reasons to think that the law shouldn’t apply to you.”

“My family was burned alive …”

“Yadda, yadda, yadda. Kate Argent will be held accountable for that, I promise you, but that has nothing to do with your crimes. In this country, you don’t get to run around killing people in vengeance. I might have been willing to look the other way if you stuck to the murderers, but then you started killing innocent people and victimizing children.”

Peter snarled at Rafael’s callousness. “You do what you have to.”

Rafael rolled his eyes. “God, I want to arrest your smug face. But I’m not going to do it, _if_ you sign these papers.” Raphael took another set of papers and tossed them at Peter. 

“You could _try_ to arrest me.”

“Tell me, Peter, do you like living here in this nice apartment with your millions? Do you know what happens to anyone who kills a federal agent?”

The werewolf’s eyes turned blue and his fangs dropped. “I could always find out.”

“But you won’t, not tonight. Because I know that you prefer to strike from ambush like most predators, and I know you’re very careful about when and where you strike. You don’t like it when your prey fights back. So read the paper.”

“What is this?” Peter’s face crinkled up in disgust.

“That is the agreement which makes you a Confidential Informant for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. It says that you _will_ contact me when you know about extra-legal activity in Beacon Hills or in Davis. In return, there will be no prosecution of crimes committed by you before or during this arrangement that relate to the particular extra-legal activities on which you are reporting.”

“And what do you think is going to happen if I don’t sign this little agreement of yours?” Peter sneered at him. “Can you imagine what the trial will be like when my motivations are called into question? No jury in the world would convict me, and you won’t keep your badge for very long.”

“Trial? _Trial?_ ” Rafael laughed a loud, long, intimidating fake laugh. “I have enough evidence to prove to a judge that you were involved in a conspiracy to kidnap the son of a federal agent and transfer him across international boundaries at the behest of a wanted terrorist. That, Mr. Hale, is a violation of the Homeland Security Act of 2002 and sufficient reason for Special Remand. Do you know what Special Remand means? It means I drop you into the deepest and darkest black site I can find, and no one hears one word from you for the rest of your miserable life. Which, according to what I’ve been taught recently, could be a very long time, however you measure years.” 

Peter growled in irritation. “Kate Argent is a wanted terrorist?”

“She will be soon enough. You _will_ help me protect my son. It’s the least your shoddy ass can do to make up for what you did to him.” Rafael stood up and smoothed out his jacket. “Oh, cheer up, Mr. Hale. I’m told that you’re a person who claims to understand what it means to go to extreme lengths to protect your family. Only this time you get to be on the other side of it.”

******

Rafael still couldn’t find any trace of Theo Raeken. It was probably for the best. He might have done something he would have regretted.

******

Rafael had not intended to talk to Stiles. The day after he had forced Peter to become his confidential informant, he was leaving the neighborhood shopping center with supplies for a graduate barbecue in Scott’s honor. He was planning to make it quite the party. He hoped it would be a very mundane affair, even though the entire pack was coming as well as pack allies, including a one-hundred-and-twenty-year-old werewolf named Satomi Ito.

His son’s life was so weird.

He packed away the last of the groceries in the trunk of his bright red Mustang convertible. He had bought the car last year to celebrate a promotion. When he slammed the trunk door down, Stiles Stilinski was standing at the front of the car, looking at him. Rafael hadn’t notice his approach.

“Stiles.”

Stiles looked at him. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“What’s on your mind?” 

Stiles smirked. “I was looking at your car and wondering whether your mid-life crisis has passed yet.”

“Good-bye, Stiles.” Rafael walked with deliberation to the driver’s door and opened it up, getting his keys out of his pocket.

“Wait. Wait! I did want to talk to you.” Stiles came up next to the car. 

“Do you really?”

“Yes.” 

Rafael unlocked the passenger side door. It was a convertible, so he could have just let Stiles do it himself, but he wanted to make sure the boy understood it was invitation. Stiles got in the other side, and Rafael pulled out of the lot. 

Stiles fidgeted nervously. He opened his mouth but Rafael interrupted him.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t … what?”

“No sarcasm. No jokes at my expense. I’m not interested in exchanging barbs with you. It’s tedious and, frankly, childish.”

“If you’re going to be like that, then I don’t really have much to say.”

“I think you do, Stiles, and I think you always have. You just don’t think that you do.” Rafael kept driving. He hoped the food in the trunk wouldn’t spoil. “Do you want to be an FBI agent?”

Stiles nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“Do you want to be a good FBI agent? Because I think you have what it takes to be a good one.”

“I do.” Stiles said with more force. “What’s the point of doing something if you’re not good at it?”

“Do you want to be a successful FBI agent?”

“I just said I did.”

Rafael chuckled ruefully and shook his head. “You would think so, but being a good FBI agent and being a successful FBI agent are two entirely different things. I happen to be, if I’m going to pat myself on the back, both. But do you know why I was successful?”

“No. Not really.”

“I put the job first. Every time. I had other reasons to avoid my family and my life outside the bureau, sure, but it wasn’t just my mistakes that kept me away. Focusing completely on the job, being always available, always picking up the slack, these things made my reputation. It got me promotions.”

“I don’t … I don’t want to do that.”

“You shouldn’t. I’m … I’m getting sidetracked. My point isn’t that you should avoid the trap I fell into, my point is that being successful takes more than just catching the bad guys. In your case, you need to stop.”

“Stop? Stop what?”

“The sarcasm. The jokes. It works with your dad and Scott and your friends, because they understand where it comes from. They understand that as much as you mock them, it’s because you want to show you care, however that works.”

“I don’t mock …”

Raphael raises an eyebrow. “I’ve been there, Stiles. Not as much as I should have, but you can’t say that you don’t use your wit to manage conversations.”

Stiles grinned. “Yeah.” He was obviously remembering certain zingers he had delivered.

“You can’t do that in the FBI.”

“They have no sense of humor?” 

Rafael rubbed at his face. “Oh, they’ll laugh, or they’ll scowl, or they’ll pretend not to hear, but this isn’t high school. The people you will be working with are not required to put up with your humor or you. Their lives aren’t dependent on you being there; you don’t have to be in their offices or working with them on assignments. The truth is no one really likes being the object of ridicule, Stiles. Your father and Scott and your friends put up with it because they like you. That’s all.”

“Or maybe it’s just you who can’t put up with it.”

Raphael shrugged. “If you want to see it like that, I can’t stop you. I want you to succeed, believe me or don’t believe me. What I’m really trying to tell you that you have to cut it out with the whole lovable asshole shtick; it’s not going to help your career. Contrary to what you see on television, people don’t eventually come to appreciate a person who continuously and humorously points out how inadequate they are. You’ll be dealing with colleagues and supervisors who think they’re just as important as you are, and if you keep trying to tell them that you’re smarter and better, it’s not going to end well. I’ve seen it happen to many lovable assholes, and I don’t want to see you end up in a basement office in Anchorage filling out warrant petitions for the next thirty years.”

They pulled into the driveway of Melissa’s house. Stiles was quiet on the front seat, and Rafael was content to let him sit there and work it out.

“Why do you want me to succeed? Half of me thinks you just don’t like me being friends with Scott.”

“I would never say that I don’t like you being friends with Scott, but I wouldn’t mind seeing you two being less close.”

Stiles froze and then his eyes bugged out of his head. “You’re trying to split us apart?” 

“No. I’m trying to give both of you distance. Right now, I don’t think you’re good for him, and he’s not good for you.”

“Bullshit. He’s my best friend.”

“And what does that mean, Stiles?”

“What do you mean, what does that mean?”

“He told me about Donovan.”

He watches Stiles’ nervous swallow work the teenager’s throat. “It wasn’t … it’s not what you think.”

“I’m not going to condemn you for it, Stiles. Nor am I going to arrest you. I learned about werewolves last weekend, and while I understand a great deal more than I used to, there’s still some things that I don’t fully understand. For example, I can’t possibly understand how you and my son and your friends have survived everything that this … strange new world has thrown at you. How could I possibly blame a teenager boy for letting a situation like that get away from him?”

“Okay. I still don’t see what that has to do with Scott. We … we’re better now.”

“Are you sure about that?” Rafael asked gently. “Tell me this, Stiles, and be honest with yourself and me. If what happened with Donovan happened again, right now, would you act the same way? Would you try to keep it from Scott? Would you lie to him?” 

Stiles thought about it while the wind blew across the yard. “Maybe.”

“You’ve used Scott as your moral compass since before any of this began. Don’t deny it. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, but you’re not going to be a child for much longer. You need to decide who you are and what you stand for without making Scott responsible for the consequences.”

“I didn’t do that.”

“You did. You demanded that he believe you after you spent weeks lying to him. Can you look me in the eye and say that if anyone had concealed something that important from you, had lied about what they had done, that you’d believe them if they asked you to? You asked him what you should do, and then resented him because he told you something you didn’t want to hear. It’s not a single instance, either. You actually told him later that you couldn’t tell him the truth because he was looking at you the wrong way. Part of being an adult is being responsible for your own decisions.” 

“He’s the alpha.”

Rafael shook his head. “I don’t know what that means.”

Stiles gnawed at his thumb. He didn’t answer.

“Scott needs to learn some things too. He needs to learn that, leader or not, he’s not responsible for anyone’s mistakes but his own, and part of being a leader means he doesn’t have to forgive everybody for everything.”

“You think I’m a terrible friend,” Stiles put his hand on the car door.

“I have a hospital security report that says you absolutely can be. I don’t care why you were angry; I don’t care that he’s an alpha werewolf. _Nothing_ justifies what you did. You should have been arrested instead of the people around you pretending it never happened. Don’t get me wrong; people react to trauma in many different ways, but he _let_ you do it. He let you hit him to make yourself feel better, and I sat there and heard him describe other times where you hurt him to do the same thing. And all those times, he’s never gotten mad; he’s never even yelled at you, has he? That’s not healthy.”

“I’m not following. Are you blaming him or are you blaming me?”

“I’m not blaming either of you. I’m trying to help. You two keep trying to cling to the version of your friendship that existed before that psychopath bit Scott in the woods. That version doesn’t exist anymore.”

“So we should give up? Like you gave up on your family.”

Rafael winced. “No. You shouldn’t give up. When I first tried to get back into Scott’s life, I failed, miserably, because I wanted to fix things on my terms. I didn’t even understand his anger. It’s only when I did that we started to make progress. It’s my opinion that both of you can’t fix what’s wrong until you have time to breathe.”

“And you’re doing this out of concern for me.”

“Yes. But mostly I’m doing it out of concern for Scott. You do understand that he … you and all your friends … have gone through shit that no one your age should have to. Both of you need a break. Do you really think you’ll forget about each other?”

Stiles got out of the car. “No. No, I don’t.”

“Then take the gift in the spirit in which it was given. Take the opportunity. Now that’s enough heavy stuff for tonight. Help me unload the groceries.”

******

Finally, Liam got up the courage to come and face him. “How long are you going to keep this up?”

Rafael yawned. “You tell me. Have I made my point?”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Good. Make sure I don’t have to make it again.”

******

Rafael stared at Melissa over the dinner table. Scott was out for the night, going to a dinner and a movie as a third wheel with Stiles and Lydia. Lydia had tried to set him up with some girl, but Scott had demurred, while still insisting on going out with them. Mostly because Stiles had begged him to come along; it seemed that when not facing certain death or reality erasure, Stiles was desperately afraid of screwing things up with Lydia.

Rafael didn’t much care in any respect. He was going to take advantage of this opportunity to sell his plan to Melissa.

“So. I need your help.”

Melissa took a sip of her wine. “This ought to be good. You need my help with what?”

“I have a plan; it’s a good plan.”

“Uh-huh. I’ll be the judge of that.”

“In about two weeks, I’ve been asked to teach a seminar in running long-term investigations in San Salvador for the Policia Nacional Civil. It’s four weeks long. I want to say yes, but I also want to take Scott with me.”

“You want to take Scott to El Salvador for a month?”

“Actually longer than that. I’d like Scott, in about a week to come down to San Francisco and stay with me. Before we left, we’d do some sight-seeing, take in a game, and do some shopping for the trip. Then, after we got back, I’d like Scott to spend the rest of the summer there.”

Melissa shook her head. “You’re never going to get him to agree to it. He’s going to want to spend the summer with the pack before everyone heads off to college.”

“I know. That’s why I need your help to get him to agree.”

Silence reigned over the table as she considered it. Rafael kept himself in check as he ate off the plate before him. 

“I think it’s more important he spends the time with his pack.” 

“Of course you do.” Rafael tossed his fork down.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t you think that Scott might want to spend a little time away from this place? Do something fun? Explore the world without being responsible for it? You know as well as I do what he’s got to look forward to at Davis. Scott’s not taking an easy course as school; he’ll have little time to be free. Maybe we should put him first, for once.”

Melissa glared at him. “Or he could be like you and run away from his responsibilities when they get to be too much.”

“That’s the last time you get to play the Bad Dad card on me.” Rafael snapped.

“This isn’t a game,” Melissa complained and got up from the table in irritation. “I’m not trying to win anything. It’s about being a good parent. I’m thinking about what Scott would want, and not what you want.”

“What Scott would want? Does Scott want what Scott wants? Or does Scott want what you taught him to want? I may not win the parent-of-the-year award any time soon, but you’re right down in the bottom of the rankings with me, Mel.”

Melissa put her hands on the hips, and Rafael felt a rush of nostalgia. They were about to have a fight, and it was going to be a bad one.

“So, at the barbecue the other day, I get cornered by Parrish, that Captain-America-looking fucker, and he goes on and on about how cool Scott is. He told me about the time that he found Lydia Martin hypothermic and mentally damaged out by that crappy old tree stump in the middle of the woods, and the first thing he thought to do was bring him here to this house, to our son. He told me how he found him passed out in the middle of the upstairs hallway, but Scott got straight up, pretended he wasn’t bleeding out and helped him with Lydia. Now, part of me had to wonder why Deputy Hellhound needed Scott to tell him take an injured victim to the hospital, but … whatever.”

“So? I’ve told you about how Scott leads.”

“I’m not interested in how Scott leads. You see, you may have forgotten this, but I’m an investigator for the FBI.” He wouldn’t hold back on the sarcasm in this fight. “When someone tells me a story, I can’t help it. I check for consistency, I look for motivation, and I construct a time line. It’s reflex by now. And something bothered me about this story.” 

“You think Parrish was lying? He probably came to Scott because he was the alpha.”

“No. I don’t care what the deputy did, and while I’m really concerned that my son doesn’t know how to take care of himself, that’s not the only thing that disturbed me. It’s about what you were doing at that time.”

“I was at the hospital. What’s this about?”

“I know you were at the hospital. You left our son, whom you had to resuscitate with your own hands not twelve hours before, alone in our unlocked and undefended house with a debilitating chest wound, when you knew there were three mad scientists and a psychotic teenager wanting to kill him. So what _were_ you doing? Don’t bother to answer; I already know. You were taking care of another man’s child.” 

“I happen to care about Stiles and his father, too. There’s nothing wrong with that. Just because …”

“Come on, Mel. This isn’t about taking care of other people, this is about taking care of your son. Because he is your son, werewolf or not.”

“You don’t get to judge what I did …”

“Oh, yes, I damn well do. I’ll admit it took me a while to figure out what the hell was wrong with you. Scott was dragged into an arena of bloodshed and horror, and you were always there, pushing him out the gate. You seemed to have forgotten that your job was to protect our son, not groom him to be a superhero.”

Melissa pointed a finger at him. “First, you’re going to stop interrupting me, asshole. I don’t have to stand here and take this bullshit from you. You weren’t here, and I did the best I could do. He was going to be involved anyway. I could either waste my time trying to keep him out of it, or I could guide him as well as I knew how. It’s not like I was any more prepared than he was.”

Rafael waited until she was finished. He could give her that much. “Mel, did you ever tell him that he didn’t owe anyone anything? That it was perfectly fine for him to sit these things out if he wanted to.”

“But it wasn’t. As I told him once, if he could do something to help, then he had to do it.”

“Of course, you did.” Rafael snorted. “Tell me, Melissa was that before or after you discovered he was a werewolf?”

“After. What does that matter?”

“It matters.”

“Rafe, kids Scott’s age join the military all the time and get sent overseas.”

“The difference is the word _join_ , which implies volunteering. Our son did not.”

“People get drafted.” Melissa was beginning to see his point, so she went on the defensive.

“Yes, they’re drafted into militaries with training, material support, experienced professionals, and an established command structure. And they’re certainly not drafted by some abuse victim who says ‘Hey, my dead mommy says you have to fight monsters for the next decade because my bad-touch uncle bit you on his revenge bender.’ And certainly not by their own mother.”

Rafael caught Melissa’s hand before it reached his face. “How dare you.”

“So, you’re saying it’s not true? That you didn’t encourage him to put his life on the line as so you could feel good about having a monster in your house?”

“Fuck off, Rafe. Don’t act like you care for him more than I do.”

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. Who can tell now? I’ve looked into it, and I’ve found that ever since you knew he got bit, you’ve been very comfortable treating him as if he didn’t bleed or feel pain like the other kids.” 

“Did you want me to tell him he could abandon his responsibilities?”

“That’s the point, Mel. They’re only his responsibilities because you and Noah and this fucking Derek asshole _told_ him it was his responsibility. I’m sure it was easier for you to deal with his transformation if you thought of him only in terms of him being a werewolf.”

Melissa crossed her arms once again. “Rafe, that’s not fair.”

“I call it as I see it. I’ve examined every imaginable way, and the only conclusion I can draw is that you don’t see our son as human anymore. Scott told me about it, what you said. He told me about that speech, with him sitting on his bed with a wound the size of a football in his chest, where you told him to stop whining and get back to work. He was so grateful that you didn’t let him feel sorry for himself.”

“That’s not what I said. I told him he had to get his pack back. I told him what he needed to hear.”

“Some psycho bastard ripped him open. His heart stopped, Melissa, and you didn’t even let him get a night’s sleep before you reminded him what he owed other people. You told him what a leader needed to hear, not a seventeen-year-old high-school senior needed to hear from his mother. I don’t think I’m that bad of a father because I want him to act his age once in a while. And he certainly cannot do that here. Not with you.”

“You weren’t here.”

“Well, I think we’ve established beyond a shadow of a doubt that I should have been.”

Melissa stormed out of the kitchen.

******

It was the day he had to return to San Francisco. The sun was beginning to set over the Preserve, turning the trees greenish-gold. Rafael felt he had accomplished something during his vacation, but not nearly enough to satisfy him. It was like chipping at an ice berg with a screw driver.

He was bringing out his last bag to the car when Scott pulled up on his bike. “Hey, Dad.”

“I’m glad you’re here. I’m sorry I have to go back.”

Scott smiled a thin smile. “You’ve been here for a month. You don’t live here, and you’ve got work. I can understand that.”

“And you’re probably pretty eager to get rid of me.”

“No!”

Rafael lifted his eyebrows in disbelief. Father and son locked eyes for a good, long moment.

Scott scratched the back of his neck. “Dad, you can’t run around town intimidating everyone who’s ever been mean to me.”

“I think you’ll find that I can do _exactly_ that.”

Scott sighed dramatically. “This is why I didn’t want to say anything about it.”

“Scott, those people weren’t mean to you. Some of them hurt you. Some of them tried to kill you. Some of them just used you. You’ll understand when you have kids. A father has to try to protect his children —”

“ _This isn’t about you!_ ” Some passerby turned to stare and Scott lowered his voice.

“You’re right. It isn’t. And that’s the problem.”

Rafael and Scott held each other’s gaze. Scott was obviously trying to figure out what he had meant by those words.

Rafael put the suitcase down on the sidewalk and sat down on the stoop. He didn’t make a gesture, but Scott understood and sat down next to him.

“Do you remember the day you were bit, Scott?”

“I’ll never forget.” Scott glances up at the roof of the porch. “I wanted to go to be early to be ready for tryouts.” 

“I remember it, too.”

Scott turned his head to the side, curiously. Rafael felt it reminded him of a dog, but he wasn’t going to say that. Instead, he tried to banish that image.

“I had the next day off work. I had saved up enough vacation hours that I would start losing them if I didn’t take a few. But I had nothing to do. So, I decided to binge-watch _Battlestar Galactica._ ”

Scott chuckled. “Oh, I know that one. Stiles made me watch it. I didn’t like it much. Too depressing.”

“Yeah. The problem is that there was no reason that I couldn’t have watched those episodes in the living room thirty feet from where we’re sitting right now. I could have been right there when Stiles came for you. I could have said something to you to keep you going out. I would have said something. The truth is, I should have been able to. But I didn’t, because I made a choice. I’m here now because I made a choice.”

“Dad.” Scott looked at him and put his hand on his shoulder. It didn’t have the desired effect on Rafael. He should be the one comforting Scott, not the other way around. “You can’t change what happened. You think I don’t want to change some of what I’ve done?” 

“You’re right.” Rafael shrugged the hand off his shoulder. “What I do now can’t be about the past. It has to be about now. And what I see _now_ is not good.”

“What do you mean? We beat the Ghost Riders. We got everyone back.”

Rafael nodded. He rubbed at his eyes. 

“Do you realize that the first place your mind went to was that I was criticizing you for the way you handled a supernatural threat? Any other boy your age would think that maybe I didn’t approve of your grades, or your friends, or what you planned to major in at college. Instead, you’re worried that I disapprove of how you defeated a Nazi werelion and soul-eating cowboys. That’s what we’ve done to you. That’s what we’ve turned you into: The Protector of Beacon Hills.” 

Scott looked confused and a little hurt. 

“You think I’m ashamed of you? No. I’m ashamed of myself. I’m ashamed of them. You’ve experienced things, suffered things that most people twice your age have never encountered or even dreamed about. You’ve made decisions that most people will never ever have to make. And everyone who should have been protecting you rather than you protecting them, have pretended that’s just the way things have to be.”

“There isn’t really a choice, Dad. Someone had to make those decisions; someone has to be the alpha.”

“There was a choice — there was more than one choice more than one time — and people steered you into making the choice that best served _them._ You were tortured, Scott. You were kidnapped and brainwashed. How many times has your heart stopped? And what happened as a result of all that? Has a single person in your life come to you and said, hey, you’ve done enough?” 

“I survived when other people didn’t. If I didn’t do what I had to do, more people would have died, and since I can do something —”

Rafael reached out and hugged him. Scott was a lot stronger than he was, but he was taken by surprise.

“Listen to yourself. I know that you’ll keep doing this and that people other than me will let you keep doing it, unless something is done to change what’s happening. That’s why I did this. That’s why I am going to keep doing this. I will not let you ruin your life so other people can sleep easier. I’m going to fight for you, to keep people from using you. I’m going to force all of them to let you live your life not as their savior but as a human being. Because that’s what fathers do.”

Scott dashed tears away from his eyes. “Whether I want you to or not.”

Rafael felt a sense of peace come over him as he spoke these next words. “Whether you want me to or not.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not a legal expert, but I tried to do as much research as possible. You should also remember, that Rafael can bullshit people.
> 
> " _L’Etat, c’est moi_ " is an apocryphal quote attributed to Louis XIV of France, the Sun King, and the leading proponent and example of the concept of 'absolute monarchy.' It's a mistake on Rafael's part, as Louis' reign ended in his death in 1715, half a century before the year the production had the founding of the Argents.


End file.
